Wednesday, May 18, 2016

​I'd rather Pole Vault than Time Vault

Have you been reading about the movie John Malkovich made that no one alive will live to see? Just our grandkids, Cher, and cockroaches, and maybe Justin Bieber might stick around for a long time to torment mankind longer than we would like with his very punchable face.
But as far as the rest of us, unless we somehow stick around for 100 years, we're not going to see it. They're gonna premier it at the Cannes Festival, well, not premier, they sort going to say, "hey, we made a movie, and you can't watch it for 100 years. Neener, neener"   Of course this kind of genius means it will win some kind of award somewhere.
But I don't see what the big deal is. Authors do this all the time, writing a book (that quite likely took as long or longer than this movie to create) and no one reads it. Just jump on Kindle and browse through the self-published stuff. Plenty of them never get read, except by their mothers, brothers and wives.  Heck, my own book Helliburton has yet to get a single rating on Kindle, and I've been traditionally published five times and had several best selling authors blurb my books.
So for me, that movie I won't watch is as relevant as the lottery prize I won't win, the Justin Bieber music I won't listen to, and the pole vault over the Grand Canyon I won't attempt.  
Besides, in a hundred years, everyone's going to be underwater from the glaciers melting.



Saturday, May 14, 2016

Hygiene Wars

When I went to the Erma Bombeck Writer's Conference last month, I thought I packed everything I might need. I had a brush, to help guide the four hairs that have stuck with me through what people laughingly call the 'balding' stage of life. I had a choice of warm weather and cold weather clothes, because, after all, it was in Ohio. 
God, I love that name, "Ohio." It's so friendly. It's like, "oh' and 'hi' and 'oooooh.'  What fun, and what a great place to have a humor conference.  That, and we were in Dayton, whose name didn't change to Nighton when the sun went down.
So I thought I had everything, that is, until it was time to brush my teeth, which, unlike my hair, have stuck with me through this adventure we call life. 
But that's when I learned I forgot my tooth brush, my rechargeable spinning 'startle-the-food-out-of-my-teeth' brush of wonder.  But I knew hotels like the Marriott would realize that forgetful people like me also travel occasionally, so I went down to the lobby to score myself a temporary replacement.
​Fortunately, I was right. And, because it was the Marriott, they had the Rolls Royce of dental hygiene ... the 'Deluxe Dental Kit."
Thanking my lucky stars I wasn't staying at one of those cheap ass hotels that only carry the 'Basic' Dental Kit, I scurried back to my room, where I soon discovered I had forgotten another essential of hygienic necessity, anti-perspirant.
What to do?  
I elevatored back down to the lobby where I checked their entire collection of arm-pit deodorizers. Which consisted of absolutely nothing. Nope, not a single one. No Right Guard, no gels, no sprays, nothing strong enough for a man, but made for a woman. Nothing.
And then I noticed the dryer sheets.



Wednesday, May 4, 2016

Mom doesn't need no stinking flowers or candy

It’s nearly Mother’s Day!

Yep, time to reflect on the wonderful women who brought us into the world, wiped our snot, cleaned our diapers, broke up our fights with our siblings and always, always miraculously  had in her purse whatever was needed for whatever baby emergency we caused.

Even murderers have mothers, and to these mothers, the feral beast in incarceration is still her little boy. That’s why sports heroes always say, “Hi, Mom” when in front of cameras. That’s why sailors in the war had “Mom” tattoos.  

Yes, without mothers, we would not have been at all, and you wouldn’t be there not reading the words I would not have been here to write.

But we tend to forget important things, like anniversaries and birthdays, and this leads to hurt feelings and angst and consternation and other words that connote unhappiness and discontent.

This is where the advertisers come to our rescue.

So with Mother’s Day approaching, the airwaves are inundated with ads and commercials not just reminding us of this anointed day of wonderfulness, but suggesting ways we might show our love.  Flowers and candy, of course, lead the way, but here are two other suggestions making the airwaves:

The Squatty Potty: What a great way to show Mom you appreciate all those times she wiped your little chubby baby butt?  And it’s made in America! Just like you, unless you weren’t, in which case this sentence made no sense.

But everyone knows that a mother would fiercely defend her baby from danger or a dangerous attacker. So now that you’re grown up, it’s Mom that needs protection, so what better than the Tigerlady Self-Defense Claw. It’s like your Mom morphed into the family tabby with retractable claws, capable of capturing the DNA of the attacker, assuming your Mom left anything left of the attacker to prosecute.

Two lovely practical gifts to illustrate how much you truly appreciate and cherish the woman who brought you into this world.